


An Adventure of a Lifetime

by ThoughtfulMusings



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Reader, Choose Your Own Ending, F/M, Gen, Modern Girl in Middle Earth, Reader-Insert, but different I hope, modern reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29071023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoughtfulMusings/pseuds/ThoughtfulMusings
Summary: When your life ends unexpectedly soon, you are given the opportunity to live in the wonderful world J. R. R. Tolkien created, in the stories you had read hundreds of times, but living the adventure is much different than simply reading about it. With the additional personal mission to save the line of Durin, how will you affect the story of The Hobbit? And perhaps along the way, the fragile sparks of romance might flicker.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Reader, Fíli/Reader, Kíli/Reader, Thorin Oakenshield/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	An Adventure of a Lifetime

It was a cold and windy night as you drove from college campus to your small apartment. You had a late class today and wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed in your pajamas, rereading _The Hobbit_ for the umpteenth time, maybe with a nice cup of hot cocoa considering how stressed you were. It was a damn near blizzard outside and the roads were slick with ice and slush. You were already going half the speed limit but even that seemed too fast. Thirty minutes later you were less than five miles from home and relief washed over you. Soon enough you could put this terrible drive behind you and curl up in your warm, safe bed. 

The next series of events happened almost in slow motion. A semi truck drove into view in the opposite lane going much closer to the speed limit than you. The back of the trailer began to fishtail on the ice. The driver overcorrected, the truck sliding into your lane. You slammed on the brakes. A scream built up in your chest but your body was paralyzed, adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your small, hand me down car was no match to the physics of a semi truck going forty five miles an hour. The sound of crunching metal and squealing tires was the last thing you heard before the world fell into black. 

When you regained consciousness, you weren’t quite sure where you were. Nothingness surrounded you, though you felt no pain. Memories came flooding back to you. You remembered the blizzard. The truck. The crash. You looked down at yourself. No injuries to be seen. Realization slowly dawned as you looked around. “Am I dead?” spoken aloud. A soft chuckle sounded, seemingly coming from everywhere yet nowhere.

“No my child, not quite,” a gentle, masculine voice spoke. 

“Where am I? What happened?” You were confused, but not afraid. Something about the being surrounding you assured you were safe, safety and comfort radiated from the presence. 

“Not so much as where, but what. This is a state of Inbetween. You remember the crash, do you not?” You nodded, looking around in search of the voice. “The life you previously lived has ended in a way it should not have, far too early.”

“So I am dead.”

“In a sense, but not quite. That life has gone, but you are still you.”

“Like my soul?” The voice hummed. 

“If that is what you would like to call it.”

“Why am I here, in the Inbetween?”

“Your life ended before it had even truly begun. I do not wish to see a light such as yours extinguished so soon.”

“Can you send me back?” you asked hopefully. Your roommate must be worried sick. She had said not to go to class that day, that your professor would understand the weather conditions, but you were stubborn and claimed you would need the notes from that lecture for the upcoming test. How silly that all seemed now.

“I cannot, for your physical form there is in no state to hold life.” You winced. Your body was probably completely crushed in the crash. The being seemed sympathetic. “But I can give you a new life, a new body for you to reside and live in my world.”

“You world?”

“Indeed, you know it quite well if the worn pages of your books are anything to go by.” You froze in wonder as you finally understood.

“You are Eru…” you whispered. 

“Indeed.”

“You’re real…”

“All things are real in concept.” You couldn’t believe it. You had the opportunity to live in the world of Tolkien, in the fabled Middle Earth! A thought occurred to you.

“Will I… remember anything from my previous life?”

“You will, as will the body you inhabit be the age of the one you just left.”

“Does that mean I will remember the stories? Of the Company and the Fellowship?”

“You will have knowledge but of things that have not happened yet. Be careful with whom to share this knowledge.” 

“I will.” You paused for a moment before quietly asking, “Can I then change what will happen?” Eru was silent, as if quietly considering you.

“You are asking if you can save those who would perish.” 

“Y-yes.” Eru hummed.

“You must consider your actions wisely. Keep in mind some events are meant to occur.” A cryptic answer, but that was to be expected from the creator of Middle Earth. It didn’t take long to make up your mind.

“I want to. I want to live the life you speak of.” 

“Very well. It would be unfair to send you as you are, for the life you lived is far different than the one you will shortly.” The realization that modern technology wouldn’t exist hit you hard. No central heating, electricity, modern plumbing... Eru seemed to know what you were thinking. He added, “I will bestow upon you the knowledge to survive off the lands of which you shall awake. I wish you luck, young one, and choose your actions wisely.” 

The voice grew louder as you suddenly felt as though you were flying. Air flew past you faster and faster and faster, you felt as though you could not breathe, your chest tight as if compressed. The pressure grew heavier and heavier. And just when you felt as though you would burst…

Cool, winter air flooded your lungs so fast it stung. The cold seemed to paralyze your chest for a second before you could breathe properly. A cold wind stung your cheeks and the undeniable cold wet of snow surrounded you. E/c eyes fluttered open before quickly squinting back shut against the brilliantly blindness of the sun glinting off freshly fallen snow. As your pupils shrunk and your eyes adjusted, you opened them once more as you sat up. 

You took in your surroundings, trying to process where you were. From what you could gather, it was winter (just as it was before) and you were in a camp of sorts, your camp most likely. There was a lean-to made from a leather tent setup against a large oak tree, a small campfire a few feet away, and a pack in the tent. You looked down at your (new) body. It felt and looked like your previous one, same skin, scars, and shape. The clothes you wore were nothing extravagant, a white long sleeved tunic, brown trousers, thick socks, and sturdy leather boots. A warm, fur-lined cloak was wrapped around your shoulders and your hands were covered with thick wool gloves. At least you were prepared for the cold. 

Standing up, your legs were somewhat wobbly. You stumbled on your first few steps before regaining your balance. It seemed being pulled out of one body and thrust into another took a moment of adjustment. Making your way north a few yards, you found a halfway frozen river. Of course you made camp near a water source, basic survival and all. You blinked. That’s right, Eru said you would know how to live off the land and thank goodness too since He had you awake in the middle of winter. 

You knelt at the water’s edge and peered down at your reflection. Your face looked pretty much as you were used to, if not slightly slimmer, though that was most likely due to scarcity of food this time of year. After a drink of water, you made your way back to camp. Sorting through the items in your pack, you found a good collection of essentials. Bedroll, rope, travel dishes (cup, bowl, fork, and spoon), flint, dagger, snares, waterproof cloak, a lighter pair of gloves and socks, and a thick wool scarf. In a side pocket, you discovered a small, leatherbound journal and several pencils. A smile played at the corners of your lips. Writing always was a way to clear and calm your mind. 

You packed everything back up and took down the leather tent. After rolling it up and securing it beneath your bedroll, you slid the pack onto your back and grunted slightly under the weight. Well, it looked like you’d have to get in shape rather fast. You pulled the hood of the cloak up over your head and decided to follow the river east. If there’s a settlement nearby, it’d be by a water source. With a final glance back to your old camp, you bid your previous life goodbye and headed towards the one that awaited you.

For the next few years, you lived the life of a wanderer. You met many folk and learned of many ways of life. You took on odd jobs to earn coin, learning many trades but mastering none. A swordsmith in a village of man taught you how to wield a sword. He offered you a fine blade in exchange for a month’s work around the forge. You couldn't refuse. You enjoyed Finn’s company and valued the skills he taught you, however when he offered you a place in the village you knew it was time to move on. Finn was sad to see you go, but sent you off with your blade, polish, and a newly fashioned leather belt with both sheath loop and two pouches. You were humbled by his generosity and tried to pay him for his work, but the smithy absolutely refused any of your coin. Instead, he simply asked you to write him a farewell letter and a promise not to forget him. You had laughed and did as he asked, stating you could never forget him nor the village of Abainn. 

About half a year into your new life, you became aware of a slowly growing issue. Have longer hair had never bothered you when you were a college student with modern amenities, but when one lives and sleeps under the stars more often than a proper roof, bathing usually takes place in cool rivers and lakes. Washing your hair took up much of your time, as did its air drying process. It quickly became tangled and any ponytail or braid you put it up in lasted a day and a half tops. Not to mention how it made an easy target to grab in battle. 

One day, as you tried to finger comb out particularly nasty tangles while a hare roasted over the fire, you had had enough. Taking up your dagger, you began to cut. While not as easy to use as scissors, you eventually managed to give yourself a somewhat choppy, if not ragged, pageboy cut. The ends of your hair brushed against the nape of your neck and passed your ears by about an inch. While certainly not the freshest look, it was practical and practicality won over vanity in the life of a wandering ranger.

Upon your travels, you encountered the wizard by the name of Gandalf the Grey. He was just as you remembered reading about, a curious man with a habit of meddling. You forced yourself to shove down your excitement and introduced yourself. He told you many stories, some of which you already knew of and others you did not. He traveled with you to Rivendell, introducing to you Lord Elrond (another person you were somewhat flustered about meeting). You met Lindir, who happily showed you around the valley. As you wondered at the beauty around you, the elf told you stories of everything you passed. 

The library was one of your favorite places, and though you could not read many of its books, Lindir happily translated many summaries for you. You stayed in Rivendell for a few months after Lord Elrond generously informed you were always welcome, learning how to read and speak basic elvish with the help of Lindir, but eventually decided to move on. Bidding your new friends goodbye, you traveled onward. 

Over the years, you ran into Gandalf several times and enjoyed whenever you did, always taking a few days to catch up with the wizard. But it wasn’t until after your 22nd birthday when you stopped in Bree, four years after you began your life in Middle Earth, that the wizard you had grown to see as a grandfather approached you with the offer of taking part in a quest. It was then you realized of what journey he spoke, memories long buried springing forth. Memories of mountains, dragons, and gold flooded your mind. There wasn’t a moment of question, you agreed readily as he briefly explained the dwarf’s mission. Smiling, Gandalf told you to head towards the Shire in two days time, to the door with the rune engraved upon it. It was then you realized he had chosen Bilbo before he had ever visited the hobbit. _‘What a sly wizard,’_ you grinned to yourself.

The night before you were to set off for the Shire, as you crawled into your bed at the Green Dragon Inn, your excitement only grew. Throughout your years traveling Middle Earth, this was the moment you had truly yearned for. The time you would finally get to meet the fabled Company of Thorin Oakenshield. While you had developed crushes on fictional characters in your previous life, you couldn’t help but wonder how different they will be in person compared to merely reading about them. Gandalf was pretty similar to the wizard you had read of, but he had also taken on a grandfatherly role you had not felt upon reading. That could be of your young age and the old man’s wish to care for someone. How would the dwarves feel about you? And Bilbo Baggins? 

The urge to make a good impression on the Company surged through you and it was with this new determination to really get to know everyone you would soon be traveling with, that you fell into sleep. You would need the energy after all, with the adventure that awaits you. 

The morning sun flooded the small inn room, waking you from your slumber. As you yawned and stretched your tired muscles, your mind quickly shook away any remainder of sleep as you remembered what today was. From what you were told by the barmaid last night, the Shire was about half a day’s journey from Bree. If you wanted to reach Bag End at the right time, you should head out just after midday. The morning seemed to tick by at a snail’s pace as you tried to kill time. You had checked and rechecked your pack more times than you could count, taking inventory of rations and healing herbs over and over. You decided to purchase a few more bunches of kingsfoil, willow bark, feverfew, as well as ginger and even some valerian root for added measure. 

Finally, finally, the sun shone down directly overhead and you set off on foot. It was spring so you wore your lighter, waterproof cloak as you walked with an excited pep in your step. As the sun set, and night rose, the Shire finally came into view. You took a moment to take in the community of hobbits down below the hill. The scene near took your breath away. While Rivendell was truly beautiful, the Shire held a certain innocence within its peace that spoke of a simple life, where the most one worried about was if any mischievous young ones were stealing from your garden and what tea to drink at tea time. 

Bagend was easy to spot, being the estate on the large hill. The carved rune glowed a bright blue in the dark night. Briefly, you wondered how the hell Thorin had managed to get lost, twice! Glancing at the windows, you could see light and the muffled chatter of dwarves trickled through. Giving yourself a moment to gather your wits and prepare yourself, you knocked thrice on the door. A few seconds passed before the door swung open and you found yourself looking down at a rather flustered hobbit. He looked about to tell you off before realizing you were not, in fact, a dwarf. His cheeks flushed a dark rose color and you took pity on the overwhelmed hobbit. “Y/n L/n, at your service,” you bowed. Bilbo blinked before stuttering out a reply and stepping aside to let you in. Being about 5’5, the hobbit hole wasn’t unreasonably small, but you still had to duck to pass the threshold. 

“Y/n, my dear! You made it,” Gandalf grinned as 12 pairs of dwarven eyes turned to you, the chatter quieting. You smiled and untied your cloak.

“I hope I’m not the last to arrive,” you said, folding and placing you cloak next to the pile of weapons near the door. “Is that food I smell? I haven’t had a thing since breakfast, and that was just an apple or two.”

“Help yourself, dear girl!” the wizard cried, motioning to a seat beside him, “We still await our leader.” You grinned and piled yourself a plate of food. As you ate, Gandalf introduced you to the rest of the party.

“Gentleman, this is Y/n L/n. She knows the lands of Middle Earth like no other and shall be our ranger.” He then introduced each dwarf in turn. You nodded politely to each as he was introduced. You could tell some were about to protest to your presence when Bilbo exclaimed that Bofur and Bifur were blunting his knives. It was then they began to sing and you grinned at the chaos that surrounded you. It was when the song had just ended that two heavy knocks sounded from the door. “He is here,” Gandalf simply said.

Bilbo answered the door and entered Thorin Oakenshield. He held a presence that commanded respect, radiated royalty. Then again, what else was to be expected from the King Under the Mountain? Gandalf introduced BIlbo and the king gave the hobbit a reproachful look. 

“He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.” His eyes then fell to you, and you forced yourself to hold eye contact. “What is a woman doing here?” You opened your mouth to speak, but Gandalf beat you to it. 

“This is Y/n L/n, the ranger and fifteenth member of this Company.” 

“The wild is no place for a woman.” Ah, that was to be expected. Squaring your shoulders and holding yourself up to your full height, you met the king’s gaze steadily.

“I can assure you Master Dwarf, I am no mere woman. I have traveled these lands since I became of age. I am no stranger to the dangers of the world nor to death. I am many things, Thorin Oakenshield, but a damsel in distress I am not.” Your firm tone held no room for argument, even for the most stubborn of dwarrow. Thorin relented and sat down to eat, answering questions the others had of the meeting with their kin. You sat yourself beside Gandalf as the dwarrow spoke amongst themselves. 

It was when the discussion of the quest and Bilbo’s part in it came about that you perked up. When thatcher became too chaotic, Gandalf stood up and darkness arose from around. “Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is. Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet and they can pass by unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage.” Even though you were expecting the outburst, it still startled you to experience it up close. 

As the wizard told off both Thorin and (more subtly) Bilbo, you took the moment to really process what was happening. You were going to be part of the unexpected journey, the quest to reclaim Erebor. You glanced to Fili and Kili and took in just how young they were compared to their surrounding kin. Your heart ached at the knowledge of their fate. Your eyes slid to Thorin and you recall his death, bleeding out on the ice. Eru’s words from so long ago echoed in your ears, ‘Some events are meant to occur.’ This was true. Bilbo was meant to find the ring, as Frodo was meant to become the Bearer of the Ring. Smaug was meant to be killed. But was the line of Durin meant to die in the Battle of the Five Armies? Your eyes hardened. If the line of Durin was to end, fate would find a way, but it would have to take you with them. As you sat down at Bilbo’s dining room table, you vowed to protect the three Durins with your life.

“Give her the contract.” Thorin’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. Balin handed you the folded parchment, listing its contents. You unfolded it from the bottom, not even sparing the bulk of the script a glance. You knew what it contained, 1/15th share of the earnings, pinewood coffin should you perish, etc, etc. Beside the title Ranger, you scrawled your signature with the quill Gandalf offered. Folding it back up, you handed it to BIlbo, who (as expected) completely unfolded the contract and read the terms. 

His reactions almost made you giggle until he looked about to faint. As Bofur explains how dragon fire kills, you jumped to your feet just in time to catch the unconscious hobbit. You and Gandalf settled him in the armchair by the fire, and you left the two to bicker about why/why not Bilbo should join the quest. Later, you settled down to sleep, knowing the Company would be leaving bright and early in the morning. As you closed your eyes, you reminded yourself of your personal quests, to get to know the members personally and keep the line of Durin alive. 

The next morning, you set off, with the dwarrow on ponies and you and Gandalf on horses. The dwarves quickly began betting on whether or not Bilbo would show up, most of them betting against. You and Gandalf, however, knew better. As Bilbo’s voice cried out behind you, a grin broke across your face, stifling your laughter as he was lifted onto a pnoy against his will. The dwarves began tossing a coin pouch amongst themselves and Gandalf answered Bilbo’s query. “They were betting on whether or not you would come. Most of them believed you would not.”

“And you? What did you think?” Gandalf caught the pouch with a knowing grin. His eyes twinkled as he split the coins, dropping his share in his bag.

“Y/n and I didn’t doubt you for a second, my dear fellow,” he declared, tossing you the pouch containing your half. Bilbo looked between the both of you in disbelief and you sent the hobbit a wink. He blustered for a second and looked away from you, making you bite your lip to keep from laughing. You caught the wizard’s gaze and the two of you shared a look of amusement. Yes, this truly would be one hell of an adventure.


End file.
